Beside the house, the cherry’s flowering, Above the trees the May bugs hum, The ploughmen from the furrows come, The girls all wander homeward, singing, And mothers wait the meal for them. Beside the house, a family supper, Above, the evening star appears, The daughter serves the dishes here; I t’s useless to advise her, mother. The nightingale won’t let her hear. Beside the house, the mother lulls The little children for the night, Then she, too, settles a t their side. And all is s till. . . Only the girls And nightingales disturb the quiet.
As I started shifting back to creative path 6 years ago, one of the biggest challenges was actually to find that Door to the world of imagination. It took years. I learnt that skill anew, but it did not become as strong of a habit as it once was. It was a tool.
Until last month. When my home country got invaded and as I continued to observe the horrible reality of war at my doorstep, I once again took that Door for what it once was. Not the entry into the world of imagination, but the escape from the real world.
This illustration I drew around my Birthday time in 2022. A friend baked me Red Velvet cupcakes for the birthday a year earlier. Recently I started cutting on sweets and sugar as a New Year’s resolution, so the one eating way too much on my behalf is this poor little fairy.